


Hot Like the Devil

by majorbisexualdisaster



Series: Hot Like [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Friendship, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Jon Snow and the Starks Are Not Related, Pre-Relationship, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27227821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorbisexualdisaster/pseuds/majorbisexualdisaster
Summary: Jon doesn't like Halloween, it's consumer holiday trash. But Sansa's costume? That might just change his mind.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Minor Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark - Relationship
Series: Hot Like [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989706
Comments: 17
Kudos: 108





	Hot Like the Devil

It's not that Jon doesn't like Halloween it's just that—he doesn't like Halloween. The cheap decorations and almost-sort-of-maybe-scary movies, the jacked-up chocolate prices and the shoddy costumes. It's all so pretentious, another holiday based solely on consumer expense (not that every other holiday _isn't_ like that, but Jon really cannot see the point of Halloween or Valentine's). He doesn't like Halloween, everyone knows he doesn't like Halloween, so Jon really has no idea how he gets roped into doing this every year. 

"Come on, Jon," Robb whines, tossing him the red and white striped hat Catelyn had bought for all of them.

Jon picks it up between two fingers, eyeing Robb skeptically. "I am not wearing this."

His best friend rolls his eyes, pulling on a matching red and white striped shirt. "We all decided that this is what we're going to be."

"No," Jon mutters. "It's what you decided we would be. _I_ was not part of that conversation."

Robb glares at him. " _You_ were not part of that conversation because you literally ran out of the house when we started talking about Halloween. Now put on the stupid clothes and let's go."

Jon cracks under the pressure of Robb's glare, pulling on the stupid costume. "You do know—"

"That this whole holiday is a scam to get people's money, it has no significant value, blah, blah, blah." Robb smirks, blue eyes dancing with mirth. "I've been listening to you go on about this for my entire life. Now hurry up and let's _go_."

He doesn't bother looking at his reflection, knowing he would just tear the costume off and live with the consequences. He also has no idea how he's been roped into being a part of the Stark Halloween costume every year. They say it's because he's an honorary member of the family, Jon thinks it's pity (or because he lives with the Starks more than he does his own mother but...). 

"You boys look wonderful." Catelyn beams at them, snapping a photo before they can hide. They follow her into the kitchen where the entire Stark clan, except Sansa and Arya, are eating breakfast, all of them in ill-fitting blue jeans and red and white striped shirts. Rickon's hat is in the oatmeal, Bran's is too close to the stove for comfort and Ned's is lopsided on his head. Robb and Jon sit at the table, each of them piling bacon and eggs and pancakes onto their plate. If he has one positive thing to say about Halloween, it's that the breakfast Catelyn cooks is always extraordinary.

Arya comes downstairs in a huff, shirt on backwards and hair unbrushed. "Sansa kicked me out of the bathroom," she whines. "Said she needed to do her makeup."

"What makeup does she need to be Waldo?" Robb mutters between bites of food. 

Jon shrugs. "I mean, it's Sansa we're talking about. Does that really surprise you?"

They're about to leave when Sansa comes down the stairs. She has on black stilettos and black fishnets, a bright red dress that flares out at the waist and ends mid-thigh, the top half is covered with a black jacket. Her bright red hair has been dyed darker, she has on glittery eye makeup and lipstick, and two horns attached to a headband strategically hidden by her hair. She looks _hot_. As hot as one's best friend's little sister can look ( _very, very hot._ Jon would almost feel guilty, but he's come to realize that well, he _likes_ Sansa a while ago and as long as he doesn't do anything, it's fine).

"Sansa, what are you wearing?" Catelyn's shrill voice snaps him out of his haze (he was not checking her out, he _wasn't_ ). 

She raises an eyebrow. "My costume, Mum. Margaery and I are going as an angel and a devil." She does a little twirl, the dress lifting slightly to show off the straps of her garter belt. "Do you like it?"

"But we're all going as Where's Waldo!" Arya shrieks. "You think I want to wear this? No. Nobody does, but we did it anyway!"

And then everyone starts shouting that if Sansa doesn't have to wear the costume, then neither do any of them. This is how, for the first time in over seventeen years, the Starks did not wear a matching family costume. Although, really it was just Arya putting on a ninja costume and Jon changing into regular clothes.

Robb, the ever dutiful son, still has on the costume from this morning, shooting glares at Jon. Most of the student body is wearing some form of a costume (even if it's just a mask), but none of Jon's friends are. As usual. Except for Sam. As usual. He and Gilly are mustard and ketchup, respectively, and the costumes are homemade, so Jon doesn't mind them as much. But still.

Satin tosses him a chocolate bar, shrugs and says, "It's the only time it's socially acceptable to eat chocolate for breakfast."

It's not, but Jon doesn't tell him that.

Jon heads to his first-period class—leadership in the grade eleven math class, he splits his time between this class and a tenth-grade class. Somebody dressed as an octopus slaps him with one of its tentacles, and Jon may or may not have stepped on it. 

He gets in a little before the bell rings and comes face to face with Sansa's tits. Like. They're spilling out of her dress. Like. Very inappropriately. Like. _Fuck_. Walking over, he tries to keep his eyes on her face. He fails, but nobody's going to mention that. 

"Sansa," he says, when he gets in front of her desk, voice strained. "Maybe you should put your jacket back on."

Margaery Tyrell (the girl's in _his_ grade for gods' sake, why is she in this class?) pouts up at him. "You're just propagating the patriarchal idea that women must be covered to not distract the boys."

"That's not—"

"And she looks hot, right? Like why should she cover herself up?"

"Yeah but—"

"Ah, ah, no. Patriarchy, remember."

Jon sighs, running a hand through his hair. _Conceal, don't feel_. He really needs to stop watching Frozen with Rickon. "Fine, whatever. She's going to get sent to the office." Now that he truly looks at her, Margaery is wearing the same thing as Sansa (with the same amount of cleavage) but in white. "Both of you are."

Sansa looks like she's about to say something, but then Mrs. Lannister walks in and cuts her off. He's truly relieved when Mrs. Lannister sends them out of class, at least he won't be sporting a hard-on for the entire class. Although, he thinks she might have done it so that all the male attention in the class was on her. Teachers.

For the rest of the day, he cannot get his mind off Sansa. Even before today, he knew she was a beautiful girl with her high cheekbones and sparkling blue eyes. But today, gods. Jon feels especially guilty even looking at her. She's Robb's sister, and yet he can't help but imagine—

Robb swings his arm over Jon's shoulder, his other is wrapped around Theon. "Guys, Baratheon is throwing a party at his place tonight."

Jon rolls his eyes. "And since when do we care what Joffrey Baratheon does?"

Theon snorts. "You're so thick, man. We care because his parents are out of town, which means _free booze_."

Jon promises to be the designated driver, as usual. He doesn't drink. They are eating lunch in the cafeteria, Jon doesn't have the same lunch period as most of his friends. They're talking about the school's hockey tryouts when Sansa and Margaery walk in. In their costumes. With no jackets. Robb is halfway across the cafeteria before either of them can bat an eye.

"Didn't know his sister was such a hottie," Theon says.

"You're literally dating her brother. I don't think you can say things like that."

Theon rolls his eyes, reaches across the table and ruffles Jon's hair. "I was speaking objectively, Snow. No need to get your panties in a twist."

Robb's fussing over Sansa, overprotective-brother-mode fully activated, arguing with Margaery, when Theon nods at them and says, "So, you wanna fuck her or what?"

Jon chokes on his water, feels it burning a path up his nose as he splutters. " _Gods_ what? _No_ , absolutely not."

A worrying grin spreads across Theon's face. "You do. Don't lie. You've literally been staring at her the entire day, Snow. Like a lonely virgin."

And he is a virgin, not that it should matter. "Fuck off, Greyjoy. She's Robb's sister."

"Snow, I was talking about _Margaery_. Oh my—"

A shout draws their gaze to Robb punching in Ramsay Bolton's face. Then all hell breaks loose and Jon slips away to his next class, mortified. For the rest of the day, he can't get Greyjoy's words out of his head. Greyjoy knows, which means he's going to tell Robb which means everyone will find out and Robb will hate him forever. Maybe he's exaggerating things, but still, he'd rather not have Greyjoy tell him. 

So he avoids both of them for the rest of the day.

After they take the kids trick-or-treating, Jon drives them all to Joffrey's house. Robb hasn't said anything yet, thankfully, but Theon keeps shooting him weird glances. His grip on the wheel is too tight and the fact that Robb and Sansa argue the entire way does not help. Neither does Sansa riding up front with Jon, while Robb and Greyjoy cuddle in the back. She's still wearing that stupid devil costume, but Robb (and Jon and Ned and Catelyn) made her put a jacket over it, though Jon is sure it'll come off the minute they enter the party.

"Okay everyone," Jon says as he parks half a block away. "I'm leaving at two. If you're not here, I'm leaving you. Don't vomit in my car and don't get too wasted."

Greyjoy rolls his eyes. "Thank you, mom. I'll be sure not to do any of those things whatsoever." The sarcasm drips thick from his voice, though Jon is sure Robb will keep him in check (as much as anyone can keep Greyjoy in check)

"Back at two!" Jon shouts as Theon grabs Robb and starts dragging him to the house. "You ready?" he asks Sansa.

She rolls her eyes at him too. "Obviously Jon. I've done this before."

They walk shoulder-to-shoulder up to the door, walking into a throng of sweaty bodies and pounding music. Sansa waves at him before heading to the kitchen to fix herself a drink while Jon heads over to Samwell Tarly still dressed as mustard. 

"I hate this song," Jon mutters as the Monster Mash begins to play.

"You're no fun," Sam says, beginning to dance, though it looks more like jerky shuffles between the mustard suit and his general lack of coordination. "It's Halloween, it's supposed to be silly and scary and fun. Like look, Robb's little sister looks like she's having fun."

Jon turns around to find Sansa looking pleasantly buzzed, dancing with her friends with a bottle of liqueur in one hand. 

"I mean sure," Jon says, looking away when Sansa catches him staring. "But she can have fun without being dressed like _that_."

Sam shakes his head. "You're hopeless. Now, no more talking about how much you hate Halloween. I think Ygritte is starting a beer pong contest and you know, we have money to make."

He stumbles into Sansa an hour after making three hundred bucks from betting on Ygritte; the girl is like a sorcerer when it comes to beer pong. But Sansa's eyes are glassy and she's stumbling around and none of her friends are near.

"Hey, Sansa," he says grabbing her shoulders to keep her upright. 

A broad grin breaks out across her face. " _Jon_. Jon. I like your name. _Jon_."

Jon laughs. "You're drunk."

Sansa shakes her head, dislodging the headband and sending her horns tumbling to the ground. "Am _not._ I only had like _one_ beer." She holds up her index finger close to his face. "See, one."

"Alright then. Doesn't mean you're not drunk. Lightweight."

She crosses her arms and pouts, her lower lip trembling slightly. She does look quite cute like this. "You're so mean. I want to go home."

Jon's fine with that, shooting Robb a quick text saying he'd be back at two. "Okay, let's go."

Sansa stumbles as she walks, so Jon puts an arm over her shoulders, supporting her as she goes. The music is loud and he can't really hear what she's saying until the door closes behind them, muffling the sounds.

"...wore this stupid thing for you and you don't like Halloween so I don't even know why and you probably think I'm so stupid and you won't even _look_ at me!" 

_What._ She's crying too. Oh, gods.

"Sansa, please don't cry."

Big fat tears roll down her face, smearing the makeup she has on. "Why not? You clear—clear— _fuck_ —clearly don't like me and I don't know why I even bothered. It's just a stupid crush. Whatever."

His heart is soaring in his chest, golden light spilling out and surrounding them with his joy. _Sansa likes him back_.

Except she's drunk and crying and this was not how he imagined it. "Hey, no. Don't cry. Come on, let's get you home and sober and we can talk."

Sansa sniffles and follows him back to the car like a kicked puppy. The car ride is silent, though she does hold his hand, and eventually she falls asleep. Jon can't wake her up, so he carries her inside and finds Catelyn sitting on the couch. He gets a glass of water and some painkillers while Catelyn helps her get ready for bed.

"Thank you, Jon," Catelyn smiles. 

Greyjoy and Robb text him and say their crashing at Jeyne Westerling's place which Jon takes to mean they're going to have a three-way. Or at least try to. He goes home and decides to talk to Sansa tomorrow.

He goes to the Starks in the afternoon, after Robb texted him about his failed sexcapades. Honestly, not things he needs to know. But, it seems like the perfect opportunity to talk to Sansa, so he finally gets out of bed and pulls on some clothes.

Arya gives him a hug when he walks in and then threatens to cut off his dick if he touches her candy. He maintains a two-meter distance from the bowl labelled Arya. He and Robb play videogames for a while, holed up in his room and eat pizza and chips. It's like every other Sunday, except he can't get Sansa off his mind. The house is quiet when he goes downstairs to refill their chip bowl. Sansa's sitting at the counter in sweats, nursing a cup of coffee. 

"How's your head?" Jon asks, watching her raise bleary eyes to meet his, her face quickly turning red.

She shrugs. "It hurts, hangovers suck. What else is new?"

Jon laughs. "I thought you only had one beer."

"Yeah, and like eight shots of vodka. Gods, I really embarrassed myself last night." She avoids his eyes and takes a sip of her coffee. "Look, about what I said. Just ignore it, yeah? Sorry if I made things awkward."

"First, I'm very impressed you remember anything at all." A small smile ticks on her lips. "And I'd rather not ignore it because I like you too."

She gently places the cup on the counter, looking at him with pursed lips. "That's not funny."

"I'm not joking." He looks down at his feet, wrings his hands in his shirt. "I like you, Sansa, I really do. And, I mean, if you want to, I'd like to take you out on a date."

"I have been flirting with you for a _year_ and you never said anything!" Her face is red as she glares at him, cold blue eyes drilling straight into his heart.

"That's just 'cause Jon's the most unobservant person in the world," Robb says, leaning against the wall behind them. "He's oblivious and you're too subtle, well except yesterday, but wow, you two are a trainwreck."

"Wait, Theon told you?"

Robb's eyes shoot to him. "You told _Theon_ before me? Jon, what the fuck, man?"

"It was an accident. He thought I was looking at Margaery."

"Wait, so the dress did work?" Sansa asks, looking between him and her brother suspiciously. 

Robb laughs. "Sans, he can barely keep his eyes off you now. Of course, the dress worked. And both of you are so blatantly obvious, like the whole school knows." Robb reaches into the fridge and grabs a can of pop, patting Jon's shoulder on the way out. "You're better than any other guy I know. Just like, don't, you know, get her pregnant or something."

Sansa's indignant shriek follows him out. 

"So," Jon says.

"So."

He gives her a half-smile. "Is that a yes on the date?"

Sansa nods. "Definitely. But like, tomorrow. I'm still hungover."

Jon laughs and agrees, giddiness bubbling in his chest as he makes his way back with the chip bowl. 

Maybe Halloween isn't too bad.

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work but...whatever.


End file.
